


Afternoon Games

by EndoratheWitch



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, Foul Language, Highland Games, Human AU, Oral Sex, Sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-04-30 07:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5155001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoratheWitch/pseuds/EndoratheWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dawn drags her sister to the local Highland games for the afternoon</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Competition

The day was bright and beautiful. A perfect day for the annual highland games, except that Marianne was in no mood to be here. She had just experienced the worst week of her life, but Dawn had convinced her to go out. Sunny, Dawn's boyfriend, was suppose to go, but he ended up getting the chance to work an extra shift. Dawn and Sunny were saving up for their wedding, so Dawn wasn't upset (much) not when her newly single sister was available! 

The park where it was being held was packed. They were walking toward the area where all the different events were being held. Some of the men walking around wearing kilts were muscular men; a little too muscular for her taste. But there was definitely a lot of swaggering going on. Roland would fit in perfectly, plus he would love the chance to prance around without a shirt on. Dawn grabbed her hand. “Come on, the wrestling is about to start!” 

Marianne let herself be dragged along until they were mixed with the rest of the crowd. A wrestling match, or as they heard someone call it, the Scottish back hold, was just finishing up and another one was about ready to begin. Dawn was clapping, hopping in place, all excited as a very big man, bald and overly muscled, walked out onto the field wearing a kilt and nothing else. 

His opponent came onto the field, a very tall, thin man, also wearing nothing but a kilt in deep blue, with hints of dark greens and reds. His arms were heavily tattooed, short dark hair that the sunlight gave an auburn sheen too. His features were sharp with a long nose and even from here, she could see that his eyes were blue. Marianne snorted. 

“That skinny guy is going to wrestle that boulder?” Dawn grinned. “You would be surprised! I've seen him wrestle before, he is really good. His name is Bog, I think. I've seen him do all the events the last two years—he always wins!” 

Marianne looked doubtful, but he definitely had a presence about him and a very cocky grin. The two men didn't waste time, as the bigger man grabbed Bog around the waist, lifting him off the ground. Just as the big man was about to slam him back down, the wiry man twisted, planting a long leg on the ground and threw the bigger man over his shoulder, then drove him down to the grass, kilts flying in a swirl with just a hint of bare asses. Marianne yelped in surprise and then elbowed her sister. 

“They aren't wearing anything under those!!” 

Dawn tittered. “Yeah, I know.” 

“DAWN!!” 

Dawn blushed and giggled. “Pay attention!” 

The two men struggled for a while, the round a total of five falls. Each time Bog won, the kilts coming dangerously high up their thighs at times, and then Bog pinned the other man winning the match. 

“You want to see his next event?” 

Dawn pulled on her sister and Marianne found herself being dragged to an event they called the caber toss. Again, as this Bog character stepped onto the field, she was pretty sure this would be the one that slim Bog guy could not possibly win, let alone lift the spruce log. But she watched with amazement as he crouched down and with both hands lifted up the large log. The muscles in his lean arms stood out as he adjusted it to his shoulder then started his run. When he threw it, the crowd let out a roar as he managed to send it end over end. Dawn smacked her sister in the shoulder. 

“See!! I told you!!” 

Dawn continued to drag her sister through the crowded event. There was going to be a wait before the tug of war, so Dawn decided they needed to eat. Marianne had gotten a soda and some shortbread while her sister was in line getting them each a sandwich of pulled pork or something. She wasn't sure what it was, but the smell was wonderful. She was waiting at one of the benches when she saw Bog walk by. He was still shirtless, wearing his kilt, soft leather knee boots, and was wiping a damp rag over his chest and head making his hair stick up. A few people congratulated him or smacked him on the shoulder as he went by. He made a face and gave a reluctant smile, nodding his head in greeting. 

He walked over to the line with the beer putting his hands on his hips as he waited. She watched him as he stood in line. Now that she was closer and he was not flinging persons or things about, she could see that the tattoos covering his arms were thorns and primroses, laced with some other kinds of plants. It was pretty cool, really. She was trying not to stare at his back, but at some point he must have sensed it as he turned around and glared. 

She was startled when those bright blue eyes looked right at her. Man, he had a presence! But she didn't look away. She had let Roland browbeat her too much, made her feel like less of a person and she would be damned if anyone was going to do that to her again. But then that damn man in a skirt smiled at her, it was a sarcastic smile, but a smile nonetheless before he turned away. 

Marianne narrowed her eyes at his slim form. But then Dawn came over, holding two huge pork sandwiches plopping down next to her sister. Dawn started to open her mouth, but then noticed where her sister was looking to see the back of Bog. 

“OOOO!!! I should go get his autograph!” 

Marianne lightly smacked her sister. 

“Don't you dare! Geez, I can't believe I didn't know about this side of my little sister.” 

Dawn laughed taking a big bite of her sandwich when her eyes became huge as she stared behind Marianne. Marianne turned to see Bog walking toward them with a drink. He sat down next to Marianne. 

“Ye ladies mind?” 

Dawn tried to say something, but her mouth was full of pork and bread. Marianne glanced sideways at him. 

“Sure, I suppose.” 

Bog grinned. “The name's Bog.” 

“Marianne. This is my sister who can't speak, Dawn. She is a fan of yours.” 

Bog suddenly looked very embarrassed at Dawn who nodded her head vigorously. 

Bog looked at Marianne again. “I gather by your tone, ye're not a fan?” 

“Oh, I don't know, you are pretty impressive. This is my first time coming to these games. “ 

Marianne was surprised that he blushed again! For a guy walking around in a kilt, no shirt and killing it at all the games, he blushed a lot. 

“I hope you donna mind me sitting, here but ya seemed to be staring a hole in me back and I was wondering if I knew ye?” 

Marianne looked slightly embarrassed herself now. 

“No, I just, well I recognized you from the events and well, your tattoos are interesting.” 

She nodded her head at his arms. Bog looked down at his arms for a moment like he forgot they were there. 

“Ah, yeah.” He blushed and cleared his throat. 

“So, ye ladies coming to the Scottish hammer event?” 

Dawn was eating, staring and saying nothing, (which was suspicious) but Marianne was intrigued by the real Scotsman, judging by his slight accent. 

“So, what is a Scottish hammer?” 

Bog laughed, showing a hint of sharp crooked teeth that she hadn't noticed before. 

“Basically we are just throwing really big rocks. It's another test of strength.” 

Marianne picked at her sandwich. 

“So, you good at it?” 

He shrugged. 

“I'm fair, I suppose.” 

That was when Dawn spoke up. 

“He took first place last year!” 

Marianne glanced over at Bog. His cheeks had flushed pink, which made its way in a very interesting path down his neck becoming lost in his heavily tattooed arms. 

“Aye, but there wasn't much real competition last year.” 

Dawn then jumped up and down in her seat. 

“Are you going to enter the knee contest??” 

Marianne looked confused. “Knee contest?” 

Bog looked a bit thrown. “Ye mean the Bonnie Knees contest?” 

Dawn nodded vigorously and Marianne still looked confused. 

“What is a Bonnie Knees contest.” 

Dawn grinned. “A bunch of men go on stage and some women are picked to judge. They are blind-folded and have to pick the best guy based only on his knees!” Dawn smacked the table in front of Marianne. “You could be a judge!!!” 

Both of them stared at Dawn who was grinning brightly. The next half hour was a blur as Dawn suddenly took control, both of them defenseless against her. Neither Marianne or her new acquaintance 

Bog, knew quite what happened except Bog was signed up for the Bonnie Knees contest for the first time ever and Dawn had somehow gotten Marianne put on as a judge. 

The Bonnie Knees contest was later in the day, so Marianne and Dawn ended up tagging along with Bog watching him compete. He won two of the next three games, winning the Scottish Hammer and the stone put then came in second on the sheaf toss. Before he knew it, he was being forced on stage with a half dozen other men. 

Bog found it difficult not to be embarrassed. Feats of strength, the hideous, tall Scotsman out there throwing shit, okay, that he could do, but this...how did he let that little blonde lass talk him into it? Then there was her sister! He still couldn't believe he had managed to talk himself into going over there and sitting with them. His stomach had been rolling the whole time, but he had been running high on adrenaline and a “what the fuck” attitude and now here he was on stage being gawked at by the crowds. 

He took a deep breath. He could do this—it was fine, but that was when he saw Marianne. Damn it all, she was the most beautiful woman and everything from the moment he sat his sorry ass down had been stupid and gone wrong and this was going to be the peak of embarrassment, this poor woman having touch him! He was the only man not smiling when the judges came up. 

Marianne glanced at him, her cheeks very pink as she gave him an unsure smile. But then she was blind-folded, the men were mixed around and the next thing Marianne knew, she was being led over to touch a bunch of guys' knees. It was odd, as the crowd yelled things and hooted, but she just knew when she got to Bog. Unlike the other men, he jerked when she touched him and while she would never admit it, she had been looking at his legs, as well as his chest, stomach and arms all day. 

His knees where slightly knobby, but not in a bad way. She ran her fingers along his knees, then up a little bit, feeling his thigh, then down again, over his knee to the very top of his sock. She moved the tips of her fingers up again. His legs felt nice, all lean wiry muscles. And then she felt him tremble. He was trembling?? She pushed her blindfold down just a little to look up at him. 

Bog was looking down at her, the other women having moved on. His eyes were very blue in his scruffy face and he looked embarrassed, and perhaps even a little scared. She looked down and realized just how far up his kilt her fingers were when she looked back up at him, both of them just stared at each other. She quickly yanked her blind-fold back down and went to the next guy just doing a quick touch and moved on again. 

Marianne stood with the other judges casting votes while her stomach was doing all sorts of flip-flops. The winner was announced. Marianne couldn't help herself from being disappointed; she voted for Bog but another guy won. 

As the contest and audience were breaking up, Bog hurriedly tried to get away. He wasn't sure who he thought he was getting away from, but he couldn't get the feel of her hands on his legs out of his mind! Then the way she had looked up at him with those soft brown eyes he could have just sunk into her eyes and been happy to do so. God damn it all to fucking hell!! What had happened? 

He was walking swiftly. Alright, if he was honest with himself he was running, when suddenly his arm was grabbed from behind. He twisted around with a snarl on his face only to come face to face with Marianne. She dropped her hand as soon as he turned, her cheeks and ears with bright red. She looked completely unsure about what she was doing as she waved. 

“Ah, hi!” 

Now that she caught up to him Marianne wasn't sure what the hell she was doing. Damn it. He was standing there, shirtless, kilted, tattooed, embarrassed and well...fuck. 

“Sorry you didn't win.” 

Bog looked a bit startled and then murmured. “Didna expect to, ye see what I look like and my knees are knobby. The rest of me isn't that great either. I just did it to please yer sister.” 

Marianne grinned, chewing on her bottom lip. “Dawn has a way of getting everyone to do what she wants. But still, it was sweet, especially since you don't know her. But you're wrong.” 

She could feel the blush creeping along her cheeks probably making her look splotchy, but she was already in—might as well go the rest of the way. Be brave Marianne, she told herself. 

“The rest of you is really nice to look at, not just your knees and legs.” 

Bog stared at her for a minute as if he didn't understand a word she had just said. He shook himself a little and shrugged, embarrassed again. 

“She seems a sweet lass.” 

But then his eyes narrowed as after a couple of beats, he suddenly registered the rest of what she had said. “What?” 

Marianne looked at him, her cheeks flushed. “What?” 

“What did you just say?” Bog put his hands on his waist, which only made everything she was feeling worse as she tried not to stare at him. 

Marianne pressed her lips together making all the color drain away. “Ah, you're nice looking?” 

Bog blinked. “Yeah that...you been drinking?” 

“No! Geez, can't take a compliment can you?” Marianne put her own hands on her hips as they stared at each other. 

Bog glanced back over his shoulder. “Look, ah, I need to meet up with my group. We have the tug of war next. Would uh...would ye like to come?” 

Marianne grinned. “Yeah. I would, Bog.” 

He blushed and smiled a bit. “Alright then.” 

Bog waited while she ran to tell Dawn where she was going. Soon both young women were walking, one on either side of him. They arrived at his clan's tent. The others inside were getting ready, which for a few of them, was drinking ale before the match. As soon as Bog walked up, a short older woman with wild red hair and wearing a plaid skirt in the colors of Bog's kilt, came out yelling at Bog. 

“Bog, where have you been?” 

“Mamm! Please, we have a couple of guests.” 

As the woman looked at Dawn and Marianne, her eyes practically lit up. “Oh, two young ladies! Hello! I'm Bog's mom, Griselda! Now how does my Bog know the two of you?” 

Dawn was all a-giggle. “Oh! I have seen Bog at these games the last couple of years! This is my sister's first time, but she got to judge Bog's knees!!” 

Both Bog and Marianne looked ready to dive under the nearest rock. 

Griselda turned her eyes on Bog, the look on her face one of complete surprise. 

“Bonnie Knees? You did?” 

The smile that spread across her face was both happy and calculating and a bit of something neither could put a finger on. 

“You girls come on into the tent, the lads...” There was grunt as a heavy set woman shot a look their way. “And lass, are getting ready for the tug of war. It's our clan against those English twats over there pretending they know a thing about strength.” 

Bog groaned at his mother's colorful language. “Mother!!!” 

“What?!” She threw her hands up, glaring at her son. Marianne and Dawn chuckled. 

Bog ran a long fingered hand down his face in frustration, but took a deep breath to calm himself. He introduced Marianne and Dawn to the other members of their group: Brutus, a giant boulder of a man, bald, his chest covered in tattoos; the one woman in the group, Stephanie, who preferred to be called by her nickname, Stuff; Thang, or Theo, a tiny man who exhibited a great deal of enthusiasm. Dawn was speaking excitedly with Thang and Stuff about the events while Brutus sat down out of the way, lifting what looked to be a large rock. 

Bog stepped out of the tent with Marianne beside him. 

“Sorry about her,” Bog muttered. 

Marianne smiled. “Don't be. Parents are always difficult. My Dad is always either embarrassing me or upset with me.” 

Bog frowned with a slight confused look. “Upset with you?” 

She shrugged. “He just doesn't always understand the decisions I make.” 

Bog nodded. “Aye, yeah my Mamm can be the same way. Her main goal right now is to get me married off.” 

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Bog's eyes turned wide and he looked more embarrassed. “Ah, yeah...” 

Marianne chuckled softly. “My Dad would like nothing better than if I got married. I was engaged once, but the guy turned out to be a total ass.” 

They were quiet for a moment and Bog was working up the nerve to ask her if that meant she was single when a whistle sounded. 

“That would be the first call for the tug of war event.” Bog turned at the sound, looking out in the direction of the field. 

Marianne looked up at him when he turned. He really had an impressive profile. Standing there in that kilt, bare-chested, flushed cheeks—yeah she could honestly say, in these few hours that she had been in Bog's presence, she had it bad. 

Bog turned back. “Well, we best be off to the field.” 

Marianne smiled. “Yeah.” 

He started to turn away, but she grabbed his arm. He turned around just as Marianne stood on her toes and kissed him. She stepped back with a smile. 

“For luck.” 

Bog looked like a deer in highlights. His blue eyes were so wide she would have laughed if she didn't think it would upset him. He swallowed visibly, rubbing the back of his neck and nodded in silence just as his mother came out of the tent. 

“Come on guys, let's get going!” 

Marianne and Dawn followed the clan as they walked to the field. They also managed to find a great location to watch the tug of war, thanks to Bog's mom. After they were away from Bog's group, Dawn elbowed her sister. 

“I saw that kiss.” 

Marianne made a face. “It was for luck.” 

Dawn grinned. “Of course it was.” 

Marianne didn't get to respond before the announcer called out the clans. Marianne's attention was immediately on Bog. He walked out barefoot, wearing his kilt and nothing else. Damn it all to hell if that didn't just make him sexier. She could not believe she had the hots for a man she had only known an afternoon, but there it was... 

He glanced over and saw her, a tentative smile creasing his face. She grinned, biting her bottom lip. She couldn't seem to stop herself as she waved at him. He blushed and she could see the red on his cheeks and up his ears from here, but he waved back at her. 

The two teams took positions, picking up the rope. She could hear bagpipes a little distance off playing. 

Her eyes were glued to Bog. She could hear her sister saying something to her, but she wasn't' really listening until Dawn whacked her hard on the arm. Marianne finally glanced at her sister, who was now pointing frantically, looking upset at the other team. Marianne glanced that way not really interested when, to her utter surprise she saw Roland! He was strutting onto the field with the opposing clan wearing a green kilt and shirtless looking just like a fucking peacock! 

Marianne was flabbergasted! Why was God punishing her? 

Roland! What the hell was he...what....her mind could not form coherent thought for a moment as her vision turned red. Karma, you fucking, vengeful bitch! Marianne thought as she glared at the field. 

It took a few minutes to realize something was going on between the teams and the referee. There was some argument going on, something about the team Roland was on having an additional player. They would have to drop someone to make it fair. 

Bog was snarling at the captain of the other team, his accent getting thicker by the moment. He poked a long finger into the chest of the other man he was pretty much glowering over. 

“What the fuck are you trying to pull, Mort! This is bullshit and you know it! Who the hell is he anyway?!” Bog's impressive glare moved to Roland, who held up his hands. “I was invited by my cousin.” 

Marianne snarled to herself, listening to the growing argument. It wouldn't be long before tug-of-war became another wrestling match. She ducked under the rope, marching across the field. Bog and Roland both turned, seeing her at the same time. Roland's face lit up. He plastered on that stupid, fucking smile of his, but Marianne walked over to Bog. 

“You need an extra team mate. I'm it.” p>Bog looked startled and uncertain, but she leaned in close, forcing Bog to bend down to her as in a very loud whisper, she said, “That blonde ass over there is my ex and I want to beat him.” 

Bog glanced over to the man she pointed out who was trying to look hurt. Bog snorted. “That guy is your ex?” 

She nodded. “Yes. I can't believe he is even here! What are the odds?! 

Apparently I pissed off some higher power. I want his ass in the dirt.” 

Bog shrugged, grinning crookedly. “So yer unattached?” 

Marianne glanced up at Bog, her cheeks turned rosy. “Ah, yeah. I'm single.” 

Bog snagged her arm, pulling her close and gave her a kiss. Not a passionate one, just a simple press of lips as she had done earlier. When he let her go, she stumbled in shock, catching herself, but he grinned a bit embarrassed. 

“Fer luck. I promise: his face will end up in the dirt.” 

Roland saw all of this, his features turning dark as the two teams resumed their places. 

They picked up the rope. Marianne was in front of Bog, she could feel him behind her, heat coming from him and something else. Either that or she was just hyper aware of this tall, lanky man who could probably beat the shit out of Roland without breaking a sweat. She grinned, flashing her teeth in a vicious grin. 

The referee stood at the middle of the rope. Roland was in front for his team, facing Marianne. 

He grinned. “Hey Buttercup. Didn't know you would be here, but I'm glad to see you.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, right Roland. Get ready to kiss dirt!” 

Roland looked a bit taken aback by Marianne's venom, like he just couldn't see what he had done. But Marianne looked as if she wanted to drop the rope and hit him. Bog touched her shoulder briefly, leaning in. 

“You got this, tough girl.” Her smiled brightened even more at him calling her tough girl. She was tough and Roland had not broken her! 

The ref yelled. “GO!” 

Marianne leaned back pulling with all her might. Bog spread his legs getting a good grip and pulled. She go the impression of the others pulling, but Bog was right behind her. She could feel the strength in him as he held on and pulled back. Roland had set his teeth and was pulling back for all he was worth, his teammates were leaning hard and managed to pull the rope a little toward them. She heard Bog snarl a curse, then yell at the others. 

“Come on, put yer backs into it!!” 

Marianne snarled and put all her weight into leaning back until her back was up against Bog. Bog moved his arms around her. He grabbed the rope in front of her since his arms were so long, the two of them forming one unit together. They pulled as one, Bog leaning dangerously backwards, planting his legs wide. She could see and feel the muscles in his arms and chest as he yanked back with her, his breath hot on the top of her head. 

Bog snarled through clenched teeth, “We got this, tough girl.” 

They both grinned at the same time and hauled back with all their might. It was the last pull they needed, because suddenly their group were all tumbling backwards as Roland and his group went over the line, Roland going nose first into the dirt. 

Marianne fell back against Bog. 

Bog let go of the rope when they fell back with a triumphant laugh, wrapping his arms around Marianne. They were both sweaty, but she didn't care. Marianne was grinning viciously when Bog's arms tightened around her, his mouth near her ear, warm breath, that accent as he murmured, 

“As promised, his face is in the dirt.” 

Then he softly kissed her ear.


	2. Evening Concert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evening concert

Bog walked beside Marianne, his hands—which he seemed to have no idea what to do with—were behind his back as they made their way toward the clan tents. He hadn't said much after kissing her ear after the game. It was as if at the moment he did it he didn't know how to undo it or what to do next. He had been running on pure emotion. But Marianne hadn't seemed angry, which was a relief. He fully expected her to turn and slap him after he had kissed her ear, but she had only laughed happily leaning back against him. 

Of course, once they stood and the crowd cheered them, neither quite knew what to do. Both of them just kept exchanging shy looks and goofy grins as they walked. Roland had approached trying to get Marianne's attention. He tried to say something to her, but she had simply walked away, not even dignifying him with a look. 

As soon as they had left the field, Griselda, with Dawn jogging to keep up with the older woman, grabbed Marianne by her arm and started leading her off. 

“Bog, why don't you go get cleaned up, dear?” 

Bog stopped walking, looking startled. “What?” 

Marianne was pulled along. “What's happening?” 

Marianne glanced over her shoulder at Bog, her eyes wide with a “Help me” look, Bog gave her a helpless shrug as Dawn waved energetically and said, 

“Be right back!” 

Marianne had no choice but to let her herself be led off as she frowned. “Uh, what's going on?” 

Griselda grinned. “Well you can't go dancing looking like that?” 

“Dancing?” 

Dawn laughed. “Yeah, sis! There are bands tonight. Really cool Celtic music! Dancing, eating, drinking! It's going to be great! Sunny is coming by after work so we can dance!” She wiggled her hips, as she followed behind Griselda and Marianne. 

Griselda led the two young women over to where the vendors were selling goods, tartans, boots, ceramics—you name it, it was on sale. She pulled Marianne into one of the kilt shops. “Aura!” Griselda waved at a woman in the back, her large hair highlighted with lavender strips. 

“Hey, Griselda!” 

She gave Marianne a wide grin. “Oh, I saw you out there during the tug-of-war! Impressive!” 

Marianne blushed. “Ah, yeah, thanks.” 

Dawn giggled as she looked through the stacks of kilts. Griselda pushed Marianne forward. 

“We need a cute outfit for Marianne here.” 

Griselda glanced over at Dawn. “You want a kilt too, dear?” 

Dawn brightened like the sun again. “Oh yes!” 

Griselda laughed. “And her sister. They are going to be dancing tonight!” Aura came around from her table to look both young women up and down. She glanced at Griselda, who must have given some sort of hidden signal because Aura nodded in a knowing fashion. 

“Alright, I have just the thing!” 

First, she sized Dawn up, gathered up a skirt and t-shirt pushing the ray of sunlight into a makeshift dressing room. Soon, Dawn was prancing around with a pleated plaid skirt and an adorable blue t-shirt that read, “My heart belongs to Scotland.” 

“I look so cute!!! Sunny is going to love it!” Dawn squealed and posed, just as her phone started ringing, “Three Little Birds.” 

She squealed again. “SUNNY!!!” 

She leaped out of the tent, her ear to the phone. Marianne watched her sister dash out on the phone with a chuckle. But the next thing she knew , clothing was being shoved at her and she was being pushed into a dressing room. 

“Go on dear, change into this!” The woman Aura grinned brightly pulling the curtain closed on Marianne confused face. 

When Marianne stepped out of the makeshift dressing room, she was wearing a short pleated kilt in the colors of Bog's clan with a purple t-shirt that read, “Scotsmen do it Better!” 

The skirt flared when she turned and it was short enough to show off her shapely legs. 

Griselda grinned. “Oh ,Aura, that is perfect!! You look stunning, Marianne!” 

Marianne made a face. “You don't think the skirt's too short?” 

Griselda made a raz-berry “Ppffftt!!! Nah! Bog will love it!” 

Marianne blushed strawberry red. “Oh.” 

Dawn came bouncing back in, “Sunny is on his....WHOA!! Marianne, you look hot!!!” 

Marianne pressed her lips together, her cheeks and ears burned, but she was grinning. “You think so?” She twirled in a circle and the skirt moved like a wave around her. Dawn leaped over hugging her sister and then hugged Griselda. “This is so awesome!!” 

Griselda laughed hugging the little sprite in return. Marianne smiled. “Yes, thank you, this was really nice of you.” 

The older woman, still laughing, hooked her arm through their arms and, with a nod to Aura, led them out of the tent. “Don't give it another thought! You two go freshen up. Meet me over by the food stalls. I'm going to pick up some food and drink for everyone before the music starts. Going to need your strength if you're going to dance all night!” 

Marianne and her sister headed off to their car to grab a few things and then went to the restrooms to freshen up before meeting Griselda to help with the load of food and drink she was bringing back with her. 

When they arrived back at the clan tent carrying hot sandwiches and cold drinks, Marianne could see that Bog had cleaned up. He was still in his clan kilt, but now he had a white t-shirt, clean long socks and what looked like combat boots. His hair still looked slightly damp as he stood with a hand on his hip, leaning against a table as he spoke with Brutus. 

Brutus looked as if he hadn't bothered to clean up and Stuff and Thang were playing playing cards together. When Marianne, Dawn, and Griselda walked in carrying food and drinks everyone cheered. 

Bog's eyes widened when he saw Marianne and his cheeks flushed. He smiled as he walked over to help take the food she was carrying. 

“You, ah, you look really nice,” he mumbled, clearly nervous. 

She blushed more when it was clear by the movement of his eyes he was reading her t-shirt after he took the bags of food. 

She smiled, embarrassed, glancing down and running her fingers over the skirt. “Your mother is generous.” 

They both stood there in front of each other awkwardly as if not sure what to do next. Bog stuttered. “Uh, well, umm...she has good tas....” 

That was when Bog's mother yelled. “Hey, you two get over here with the food and eat something before Brutus eats it all! Especially you, Bog! You're still too thin!!” 

Bog grumbled, embarrassed. “Hungry?” 

She laughed. “Yeah.” 

He reached over, sliding his fingers over hers as he took her hand transferring the food to his hip with his other hand. She wrapped her fingers around his, letting him lead her over to where the rest of the food and drink had been laid out on a foldout table. 

Marianne enjoyed the meal as everyone started to tell stories of past games. Thang related a story about Bog losing his temper at a Loon Stone Carry competition because some guy had been bad-mouthing their clan and had gone so far as to insult Bog's mother. Thang grinned as Bog dropped his head into his hands. 

“Then Bog turned around and threw both stones down and tackled the guy to the ground and started to pummel him. It was great! This guy was three times Bog's weight! But Bog slammed him down so fast, it was funny! Broke the guy's nose, got disqualified, but it was worth it!” 

Bog muttered. “Ye don't say things like that about a man's mother.” 

Griselda grinned. “He's a good boy.” 

Marianne laughed, giving Bog a sideways grin. Bog smiled, though he looked badly embarrassed. Marianne had a nice buzz going from the beer she had imbibed. Bog kept a stash of whiskey in the tent and had taken a couple of shots to calm his nerves while they ate dinner and listened to Thang relate more embarrassing stories. 

Dawn leapt up squealing as Sunny stuck his head inside the tent. All that could be seen of the dark-skinned young man was his head as he tentatively said, “Excuse...” But before he finished his sentence a very happy Dawn plowed into Sunny. “You made it!!” 

Sunny grabbed for her, both of them disappearing through the tent flap. They could hear an excited Dawn talking a mile a minute. 

Thang started to tell another story when everyone heard the announcement of the one of the Celtic bands coming to the stage. Dawn ran back in pulling her fiance with her. “Hey guys, this is Sunny! The music is about to start—come on!” Sunny waved and then yelped as Dawn dragged him back out again. The others got up and started to file out. 

Soon Bog and Marianne were the only ones still in the tent. 

Bog glanced down, running a hand down his kilt. “Ah, if you don't feel like....” 

She grinned reaching for his hand. “Come on.” 

Bog had a goofy grin on his face and his blue eyes lit up as Marianne pulled him behind her out of the tent and headed over with the others to the stage where the music had just started. 

The band consisted of a bagpipe player, electric guitar, drums, a violinist, mandolin and vocals. The music was a combination of traditional Celtic and punk. The crowd started jumping and dancing as the band played loudly. Marianne smiled, her arms in the air, her hips grinding to the music. Bog looked nervous and unsure, trying not to stare at Marianne, but damn it, she was making it incredibly difficult as her hips, in the short skirt, moved back and forth. Hell, it was almost mesmerizing. She turned to look at Bog, noticing that he was just standing there. She laughed, shouting to be heard. 

“Come on, Bog! Your Mom wanted you to dance with me right?” 

She grabbed his hands in hers, guiding them to her hips. She was buzzing from the alcohol, but she wasn't drunk and she could swear his hands produced their own heat that raced up her sides. They covered her hips perfectly and for a moment, the thought of him holding her hips and....okay, she thought, shaking that enticing thought away. She put her hands on his muscled arms, twisting her hips in time to the music. 

Bog swallowed, looking lost for a moment. 

“Just follow my lead!” She said, stretching up so Bog could hear her. She moved her hips and urged him to do the same. 

He grimaced slightly, but he did as she directed. Both of them moved together to the music, his kilt and her skirt flaring out as she got him to sway. She wrapped her arms around his waist, smiling up at him making him move with her. He swallowed hard, wishing he had downed a larger draught of whiskey to calm his nerves. Especially when she looked up at him, the lights from the stage dancing in her eyes. 

Marianne lost sight of her sister and Sunny, but right now she only had eyes for Bog. He smiled down at her, the light flashing across his face, occasionally making his blue eyes shine in an almost unearthly way. The band yelled that they were going to slow it down a bit, let some of the couples out there get a chance to make out. This was met by roars of approval. The band proceeded to launch into a very Celtic version of ELO's Strange Magic. 

Bog blushed, but asked, “Slow dance?” 

Marianne smiled, moving to wrap her arms around his neck. “I would love to, Bog.” 

He pressed his lips together in a shy smile as he brought his hands up deliberately to her waist. He pulled her slowly closer until their bodies were touching, his eyes never leaving hers. 

The music was beautiful; the violin and mandolin gave the song a certain magical quality as it drifted over the crowd. Bog and Marianne swayed together with the music. The lights dimmed to a deep blue and green as they moved over the audience. Marianne dipped closer to Bog while his hands moved up the curve of her back. He stepped easily now, leading her in a gentle dance. They circled, all languid grace as they danced, their eyes never leaving each others faces. 

He started humming softly along with the song and then quietly, almost a whisper, Bog started to sing. The soft Scottish lilt of his voice gave the words a purring sound. 

“You're sailing softly through the sun of a land I've always known, you fly, so high, I get a Strange Magic...” 

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth grinning, then she started singing softly with him as they danced, staring at each other. 

“Oh I, never gonna be the same again...gotta end...Sweet dreams...gonna Strange Magic, Strange Magic....” 

He had his arms tight around her. Bog closed his eyes as he held her, his head bent down a bit so that he was singing the words of the song with her. His voice was a whisper against her ear. Marianne closed her eyes swaying with the song, leaning against his cheek. His voice, her voice, mixing with in the song as they softly performed their duet, just for themselves. 

It was almost dream-like, her arms wrapped around his neck and his arms around her waist. Her body was pressed close to his as they sung together. 

“Strange Magic, oh it's ahh...Gotta Strange Magic...” 

Bog's cheek moved against hers, slightly prickly, but in a pleasant way as his unshaven cheek gradually brushed hers. He moved his head then so that his forehead almost touched hers, his nose just barely touching hers. “It's Magic...” Marianne looked into his blue eyes. She could feel herself becoming lost, her mouth slightly opened as she willed his mouth to hers. 

Bog felt like his core was melting, gazing into those warm brown eyes. Bog's lips moved toward hers, she could feel his breath against her mouth, almost taste him, smell the whiskey on his breath. Her eyes moved down gazing at his mouth as he licked his lips and whispered, his voice thick, his accent a rumble across her heart as he whispered, 

“It's Magic..” 

Marianne's heart sped up as her eyes moved back up to his sky blue orbs. This close she could smell his scent, warm, manly, spices that were all him and she knew, right then, she wanted him, wanted him badly. Whatever spell he was weaving, she was hopeless against it. Marianne moved toward him, just a fraction, his tongue nearly touched her lips as his mouth opened slightly more, she could feel the heat of his breath against her lips as he leaned a fraction closer, she almost felt his lips against hers...when suddenly Bog jerked backwards way from her. 

“Fuckin' HELL!!”He stumbled as he was yanked and spun around. She only had a split second before she saw Roland and the group of guys from the tug-of-war earlier, quickly surround Bog. One guy grabbed Bog by his arms, pinning them behind him as Roland took a swing. He hit Bog directly in the face, snapping his face to the side. 

Marianne snarled, reaching to stop Roland. She got a hold of his arm and spun him around to face her. “Let him go!!” 

Her other hand formed a tight little fist and slammed it right into Roland's perfect chin. 

A couple of more guys from Roland's group started beating on Bog. Bog was impressively strong despite being so slim; he yanked one arm free. He managed to hit one man, knocking him flat on his ass, before two more grabbed his arm again. Bog yanked them around with a very colorful and descriptive cursing. He forced his arms down hard and threw all his weight forward, causing the three men trying to hold him to fall forward as Bog reversed his weight and pulled back, breaking their hold and causing the men to crash into one another. 

But no sooner than he had them off of him, a few more leapt on Bog, driving him to the ground. Bog dropped to his knees, trying to keep himself somewhat upright as another opponent hit him in the back and the whole lot of them fell forward. That was when Brutus came running from out of nowhere. 

Brutus didn't take the time to ask what was going on. He surged into the guys holding Bog, the lights from the stage catching him as he threw his bulk gracefully through the air, taking Bog, and the four men holding him, the rest of the way down to the ground. 

Marianne caught a glimpse of bare behinds as the men wrestled, trying to keep Bog down while fighting to get Brutus off of them. Stuff pushed her way through the crowd, coming into view with Thang right behind her. Again, no questions asked, they just threw themselves into what was quickly turning into a riot. Stuff lifted a guy off of Brutus, tossing him out of the way. Thang bounded into some guy's back, the two of them running in circles as the guy tried to get Thang off. 

In the next instant, Griselda came out of the darkness and tackled some young man from behind, the two of them hitting the ground as the older woman took him down. They disappeared as the fight started pulling in other people. As the group of fighters became larger, kilts started flipping and flying, which was causing Marianne to get a bigger eye full than she cared to. 

Of course it was everyone but the one man she would not mind getting a glimpse of! Bog rolled and kicked somebody in the stomach as he got to his feet only to be tackled again. He hit the ground hard, but he was accustomed to taking a beating. He rolled and grabbed the guy in a headlock, snarling incomprehensibly in a thick Scottish accent. 

Somebody, somewhere yelled and more people in kilts started showing up. It was as if everyone had been waiting for the chance to have a brawl. It was becoming a damn circus! Marianne was going to try to help Bog, but as she turned someone grabbed her. She struck blindly behind her, hoping it was one of Roland's group and not one of Bog's. 

Before anyone knew what was happening, the concert area had turned into a full on brawl slash mosh pit. Marianne tried to move to help Bog when Roland tried to grab her again. She pushed Roland down on the ground and managed to get a few good punches to his oh-so-perfect face. Roland pushed her off and then tried to tackle her, but Marianne elbowed him in the nose getting a satisfying crack as Roland yelped, falling backwards and grabbing his face. 

“You BROKE MY NOSE!” 

Marianne snarled a grin. “Good! you...you....cheating fucker!” 

That was when she heard Griselda yell something about “smash their fucking English faces” before she saw the older woman run by chasing a clearly fearful, kilted member of Roland's clan, a savage yet gleeful smile on her old face as she cheered Marianne on as she flew past. 

There were so many people now involved, no one was sure how the fight got started by the time security showed up. It wasn't long before everyone was sitting on the ground, divided into their groups. The first aid people were making the rounds, cleaning up and tending to bloody lips, swollen eyes and bruised knuckles, which was luckily the main extent of the injuries. The worst injuries were the wounded pride of a few people. 

Marianne was sitting on the ground next to Bog. He had his long legs stretched out in front of him, leaning back on his hands. The others of their group were either sitting or lying on the trampled grass as they waited for first aid and security to get to their group. Security was trying to figure out what happened, though no one would admit to anything. 

Bog winced a little as he moved his lip. He had a bloody lip and there was going to be a nasty bruise under his left eye. His knuckles looked a bit rough too. Marianne had a pressure cut on her own knuckles from hitting Roland, whose lips, from here, looked like they were two sizes too big, but they matched his broken nose. 

Bog's mother was cursing and arguing with one of the security men who was clearly losing the battle with Griselda's temper. 

Marianne glanced sideways at him before turning fully around. She reached out and gingerly turned his face to hers, examining the damage. “Does it hurt too much?” 

He shrugged. “About as much as ye would expect.” 

Her fingers were light on his lips, then his cheek, as she examined his face. Bog was very still watching her. She was so damn pretty. No, not pretty, too weak a word, he realized She was beautiful and he was fairly sure she had been about to let him kiss her. 

“That was a cheap move. Roland is such a prick,” she muttered. 

Bog laughed. “Well I suspect they paid for it. Especially that Roland guy. You broke his nose.” Bog's grin was wide and admiring. “At least no one is ratting anyone out.” 

Marianne glanced over at security who did not seem happy. “So what will happen?” 

Bog shrugged. “Nothing, if no one admits to anything and no one files charges. The worst they can do is kick everyone out for the night.” 

They were both quiet, just sitting next to each other. Bog bent his knees up, his kilt did not move up at all, which she found a bit disappointing and then blushed in surprise at her own dirty mind. 

He rested his arms on his knees, his very nice arms, she thought. Marianne let her eyes travel up his arms, studying the tattoos, before they disappeared under the sleeves of the t-shirt. Bog glanced over at her, catching her staring at his arms. 

“You wanna closer look?” 

Marianne scooted closer and lightly touched his arm. She couldn't see all the detail with only the stage lighting, but the tattoos were impressive. She caught his gaze. “They have any meaning?” 

Bog pressed his lips together. “Aye. The primrose can mean “I canna live without you” or the evening primrose means fickle. Reminds me that love is strange and confusing. The thorns remind me that love is painful. The other plants are just, well, decoration.” He shrugged. 

“Wow, bitter past relationships?” 

“Aye, just stupid really. Should never have expected anyone to love me. Hideous.” He said it with a mocking laugh. 

Marianne frowned. “You? Hideous? You're not hideous at all.” 

He smiled timidly, studying her, his blue eyes were warm, but his expression shy and a bit nervous, conveyed doubt. 

“Certain persons have changed my outlook a bit.” 

They looked at each other, the tension in the air between them growing. Then Marianne sprang forward and tackled him. Bog yelped in surprise, barely having time to grab her as he fell backwards, his legs going up, with her on top of him. The grin she gave him was wild and carefree. She weaved her fingers through his hair as she hissed softly. 

“I'm going to kiss you.”


	3. Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow

Bog yelped, a look of complete surprise on his scruffy face, as the feisty Marianne threw herself on top of him. He flopped onto his back as she straddled him in that tiny skirt, her hands planted on either side of his head. She found his wide-eyed look of shock adorable. His hands went to her waist. She was smiling—she was smiling! At him! Just as they started to lean toward each other, mouths slightly open, they were again interrupted, this time by security. “Alright, who is in charge of this group?” Bog dropped his head back onto the grass with a groan as his mother stepped forward. “That would be me.” 

“So, you have anything to say about what happened tonight? One of the men over there...” He pointed at Roland's group. “Claim that this guy...” Now he pointed at Bog who was starting to stand with Marianne's help. “Broke his nose.” 

Bog let out a breathless, accented and startled, “What?!” 

Marianne was angry. “Bog had nothing to do with his broken nose. That was me!” 

The security guy looked at her, giving her a once over and burst out laughing. “Seriously?” 

She narrowed her eyes dangerously, prompting Bog to put an arm around her waist to hold her in place. The guard started to laugh more. “No wonder he said it was him! Good for you, girlie.” 

“What did you call me?” Marianne started to take a step forward, but Bog's grip remained firm as he hissed in her ear. “Shh...we don't want to go to jail.” She made a face, but she knew he was right. It wasn't worth hitting the guy in his misogynist mouth just to show him what an ass he was too. Griselda also narrowed her eyes and Marianne heard Bog whisper, “Oh, shit.” Bog let Marianne loose to corral his mother so the lot of them would not end up getting arrested. After several hours it was well past midnight and finally everyone was allowed to go. 

Tomorrow would be the last day of the games. 

Marianne was walking beside Bog, who put his hands on his lower back and stretched. “Well, nothing like a good brawl to wear ye out.” 

She giggled softly. “Are you sure you're too tired to maybe get a cup of coffee with me?” 

Bog stopped in his tracks. “Uh...no...I mean...yes!” 

Griselda grinned as she walked by the two of them. “Just don't keep him out all night. Still have games tomorrow!” 

Marianne flushed, but Bog simply gave his mother a salute and reached out for Marianne's hand. Bog led her outside the campgrounds where she grinned in surprise to see he had a motorcycle. 

“Ah, you're going to ride that in a kilt?” 

Bog turned with a smirk. “Aye.” 

She giggled, a genuine girlish giggle as he moved around to the back compartment pulling out another helmet which he handed to her. He helped her on, his eyes moving to her legs for a moment, then he got onto the motorcycle careful not to flash her. They drove into town, her arms snug around his waist, smiling so broadly that she thought for a moment her face was going to hurt after this. He found a diner that was open twenty-four hours. 

He got off and took her hand, helping her. He grinned at the way her hair stuck up after taking off the helmet. She was definitely cute. He took her hand, tangling his long fingers with hers. It was odd, she thought, how natural it felt to have his hand holding hers. They ordered coffee and pie, Bog getting strawberry pie and she ordered cherry. 

Now that they were alone (mostly alone in the diner) at least her sister was not here and his mother wasn't here, they were both very quiet. Bog took a bite of his pie making a face of appreciation. “I've never had strawberry pie before,” Marianne murmured. 

Bog grinned. “Want a bite?” He used his fork to cut off a bite and leaned over the table with the fork. She blushed, but opened her mouth as Bog slid it between her teeth. His blue eyes were intent as he watched her mouth, snapping up to her eyes when he realized how engrossed he had been on her lips. He smiled, sitting back. 

“Oh, that is good! Want a bite of mine?” 

Bog grinned. “Sure.” 

Marianne did the same, cutting off a bite and leaning on the table to feed it to him. She chewed her bottom lip as she gazed at his mouth, then up into his eyes. The tension and heat between them was so strong that even the waitresses were watching the two of them. One of the women learned over, fanning herself with a menu whispering to one of the other women. “If those two don't jump each other soon then there is something wrong with the world. Hell, he is wearing a freakin' kilt!! ” The other woman laughed. “It's like watching a live version of one of those books you're always lending me!” That got her smacked with the menu. “Hey, you read'em too, Sherry.” The woman with the menus grinned. “Should we ask about what's under the kilt?” Sherry smacked her friend playfully. “You are going to embarrass that girl.” 

Her friend snickered. “Yeah, but I really want to know.” 

Bog sipped his coffee watching, Marianne. He couldn't figure her out. She really seemed interested in him and he thought the signals were pretty clear, but he had been wrong before. She blushed when she saw him staring at her. “What?” 

Bog blushed in turn, looking down at his coffee as he set the cup down. “Ah, I, uh...you know...uh women don't usually go for guys like me.” There, he had said it. Got it out in the open. Marianne lifted a brow at him with a quizzical look that was also challenging. “What do you mean 'guys like you?'” He turned the coffee cup around with his long fingers. Marianne waited, glancing down at his hands. Very nice hands, she thought. He finally took a breath. “I know you said you didn't think I was hideous...but...” 

She smiled. “I am not an evening primrose, Bog.” He looked up, startled to meet her heavenly brown eyes. She was smiling at him, making him swallow hard. They finished their slices of pie, Bog ran his fingers over the gooey remains on his plate then held out his finger to her mouth. She pressed her lips together for a moment and then her eyes moved from his finger to his blue eyes. He had a bit of a smirk on his lips—almost a challenge. She leaned forward and wrapped her hand around his, pulling his long finger close. Her eyes never left his as she sucked his finger into her mouth. The look that came over Bog's face was perfect. His mouth dropped open, eliciting a smirk from Marianne. 

He swallowed, staring at her after she removed his wet, but clean finger from her mouth with a little lick and then sat back. Bog was startled when the waitress came over. 

“Anything else for you two kids? Though, I would suggest a room.” 

“Uh, no. I think...yeah, we're ready for the check.” Bog had turned a deep scarlet. Marianne could not keep the smirk on her face from growing larger as she had clearly befuddled him. 

The waitress grinned, turning to Marianne. “I gotta know hon, what does a Scotsman wear under his kilt?” 

Marianne blushed a red so deep it matched the cherry remains of her pie. “Nothing at all.” 

The older woman smirked wickedly. “Good to know.” 

* 

They drove back to the fairgrounds where the games were being held. Bog took her back along the far side were some of the contestants and shop owners had their trailers and campers. He parked his bike next to a small trailer nearly the water of a small pond. When he got off, he blushed before he asked her softly, “Temporary housing for the games, but would you like to come in?” 

She reached out, taking his hand. “I would love to.” 

The trailer had the look of a single man's apartment, some dishes in the sink, a couple of Scottish magazines on a table. Surprisingly there was also a book, that from the cover, looked to be a fantasy. 

“You live here all the time?” 

Marianne flopped down on the bed, kicking off her tennis shoes. The bed was the only place big enough in the small trailer for them to sit next to each other. 

“Only during the summer. I have an apartment in the city.” Bog moved a few things about like he was trying to tidy up before giving up and walking over to her. 

She lifted her brows. “Oh, so what does a highland gamer do on the off season?” 

He grinned at her. “I work construction. I have my own business.” 

“Really? Wow.” 

Bog shrugged, sitting on the bed, reaching down to remove his boots before leaning back on his elbows. “Aye. Was my father's, now it's mine. Family business.” She smiled laying on her side with her head propped up on her fist. 

They were quiet for a moment, staring at each other. Bog reached over and tenderly ran his thumb along her cheek as he cupped her jaw. She leaned in, feeling as if she were being pulled by some unseen force. He leaned closer, brushing his lips against hers, just a soft whisper of contact. His lips were soft, gentle, begging for more. He closed his eyes, brushing his lips against hers again, the very tip of his tongue caressing her bottom lip. She moaned on a sigh as she scooted closer. Her tongue moved to meet his, touching lightly. The contact started a fire. Bog moved his hand to her neck, pressing closer to deepen the kiss. Marianne responded by grabbing the front of his shirt, balling the fabric in her fist as their tongues met. 

The kiss was sweet and passionate. He rolled onto his back pulling her with him so that she was half way on top of him. She moaned softly, moving her leg to rest between his, the fabric of his kilt the only thing keeping her from feeling him against her bare leg. His long fingers tangled in her short hair, his unshaven chin and cheeks gently roughing up her face as their lips moved over each others mouths, tongues twisting and sliding against one another. 

His one arm moved from her hand to wrap around her shoulders, the other having moved to her waist, his fingers tracing the small spot where her t-shirt had risen up to expose a line of soft skin. His fingertips moved slowly back and forth along that line of flesh at her hip, stroking with delicious caresses. She moved her hand up his chest, enjoying the feel of the muscles she could feel through the shirt. She slipped her fingers under his shirt. Her hands traveled to the flat planes of his stomach. They nibbled softly at each others lips and tongues. Eventually they rolled to face one another again. 

Bog pulled back just enough to whisper. “You want to stay the night?” She blushed, which caused Bog to laughed. “Just to sleep. It's so late.” 

She smiled softly. “Yes.” 

They shifted up onto the bed more comfortably. Bog pulled her close as they started to kiss again. He moved on top of her, his leg between her legs now. He eased his thigh against her making her moan, whine with need. She cradled his head kissing him harder, her tongue probing his as her thumbs caressed his cheekbones. He captured her tongue, sucking on it then pressing his into her mouth. She couldn't seem to help herself as she jerked the sides of his t-shirt up so she could touch his skin. He twitched at her touch, but he continued to kiss her. His mouth moved to the graceful column of her throat, pressing his lips just under her ear. She closed her eyes as his mouth skimmed her neck, one hand moved under her shirt to spread his long fingers against her stomach. 

They moved their mouths over each others lips, her hands ran under his shirt, over those lean muscles she had admired all day, now under her hands. She moved her fingers lower; her fingertips brushed the edge of his kilt. 

His mouth and teeth worked their way along her collarbone, his tongue making sensual circles long her skin. She grinned, thinking about how this was not at all how she thought her day would end, a hot Scotsman kissing her. She giggled, which made Bog stop. He looked up at her with a question in his eyes. 

She blushed as a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Sorry, nothing just...funny how the day started.” 

Bog chuckled “Aye. Want to stay for the second half of the games tomorrow?” 

“I wouldn't miss it.” 

She reached up to to run her fingers through his hair, making him chuckle as he bent his head back to lace her collar with licks and kisses. His hand moved from the small space of exposed skin to lay his palm over her breast. 

It was exciting, thrilling, the way the warmth from his palm translated through the fabric to her skin. He squeezed delicately as if testing the waters. She sighed, arching every so slightly into his palm. His hand moved to the side of her breast so that his thumb was positioned over her nipple, as he kissed her collar and neck, his thumb traced slow circles over her nipple sending ripples through her that rushed heat to every part of her. Then he surprised her even more as he started to sing softly, the Scottish lilt like a caresses as his mouth moved along her collar. 

“Wisemen say, only fools rush in...” 

He was singing it so low she didn't think she was suppose to hear him. She sighed softly as his breath, warm and sensual, breezed through her shirt. It tickled her skin, the words traveled through the cloth, over the fine hairs of her body and through her, touching something deeper in her. She stroked her fingers through his hair, singing a soft reply. “But I can't help, falling in love with you....” 

Bog stopped, going very still. His eyes moved up, blues eyes catching her brown ones. 

* 

Marianne pulled him up to her. He leaned on his elbow looking down at her, his long fingers ran softly through her hair. “Think I'm a fool?” 

She gave a sort of hiccup laugh. “If you're a fool, then I'm a fool too.” 

Bog ran his thumb along her cheek his eyes roaming over her face. “I know we don't know a great deal about each other, but I think...I think...” For a moment it was as if he couldn't breath to get the words out. 

She smiled. “Let me...” She traced her finger tips along his nose making him blush. “I think I am falling in love with you.” 

His eyes dropped down, the red in his cheeks became deeper before he looked back to her eyes. “I think I am falling for you too, Marianne.” 

She pulled his mouth to hers, her fingers balling in his hair. He wrapped his arms around her, picking her up slightly off the mattress to hold her against him. They started to kiss again, his mouth moving over her lips, down her chin, to her throat. 

She groaned softly, which he took as an invitation to move his head down further, his mouth finding her other nipple through the fabric of her shirt and bra. She groaned at the feel of his hot breath through her clothing, the movement of his tongue over the texture of the fabric was deliciously sexy. She pulled at his shirt, running her fingers over his back, the muscles rolled as he responded to her touch. Bog arched his back as her hands ran down his slim muscles, she lowered her hands to his hips. 

She kept pulling his t-shirt up until he finally got the hint. He sat up on his knees looking down at her with smoky blue eyes, to pull his shirt over his head. Marianne snagged her bottom lip between her teeth as she let her eyes travel down from his broad chest, over his stomach and along his slim waist to where his kilt was riding low on his hips. 

Oh, yeah, she thought, as a slow sensual smile spread across her face at the sight of him. What made it even more appealing was the soft nervousness in his face, the set of his mouth. He was clearly not ready for the hot passionate look in her eyes, despite their kissing. Marianne reached up, running her fingers along his kilt, hooking her fingers down the front of it and yanking him down to her. 

He chuckled, blushing, but he didn't fight her, covering her mouth with his. Their tongues moved sensually over one another. Her hands glided along his sides, loving the way his weight felt on top of her. Everything with him was happening so fast, but for some reason it wasn't scaring her, she didn't feel anything except...right...this...with him...was right. 

Bog pulled up her shirt and she shifted to help him pull it over her head. He smiled gently for a moment just laying his head between her breasts, stroking his fingertips along her side. He smiled, she was soft, smelled like all the things he didn't deserve. She stroked her fingers over his head, through his hair. 

“You sure you want to go further, lass?” he whispered against her flesh, his accent heavy with lust. 

“I am very sure,” she whispered in reply. 

He lifted his head to look at her. Marianne traced her fingers along the scars on his chin, the stubble of his jaw. Oh yes, she was more than sure. She pulled him closer into a deeper kiss, her hands moving down to grip his rear pulling his hips closer. Bog's mouth glided to lightly bite her chin, then down over the front of her neck, the flat of his tongue licking down her throat. Bog's long fingers moved up to grip her bra straps. He slowly pulled them down. Bog's tongue rolled over the swells of her breasts. She gasped softly arching with the feel of his tongue. 

His accent was very thick as he whispered, “Can I take this off you, Marianne?” 

She giggled—he was so sweet. Getting her bra off wasn't that smooth a move for either of them. It had them both laughing, until they finally managed to throw the damn thing out of the way. She wrapped her arms around Bog, pulling down onto her when they finally got the contraption off. Their kissing became more earnest then. His mouth moved to her bare breast, rolling his tongue along her nipple while his hand played with her other breast. He ran his nose along the soft rise of her breast as he whispered against her skin. 

“You are so beautiful.” He moved back up her body to kiss her. She smiled against his lips, caressing the back of his neck with her fingers. He pulled her close, holding her head against his shoulder singing softly against her ear. “...some things are meant to be...” 

She smiled softly, singing with him. “Take my hand, take my whole life too...” 

They sang together quietly, holding each other. “For I can't help falling in love with you...” 

He ran his fingers through her hair softly. Marianne closed her eyes, their bare skin pressed together, the warmth of his body against hers. 

“Make love with me, Bog.” 

She kissed his ear, then his cheek following along his jaw whispering again, 

“Make love with me, Bog” 

He cupped the back of her head, laying her down. He delicately ran his fingers from her face, along her throat. 

“Aye, Marianne, aye...” 

He placed a kiss between her breasts before letting his lips trail down her stomach to the top of her skirt. Once there, his fingers moved up to find the zipper on the side. He slowly dragged it down and slid the skirt off as she pulled her legs up. 

He pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath through his nose as he gazed at her in awe. His eyes traveled down her body, his fingertips tracing the top of her panties then along her hip bones. He moved the flat of his hand up over her belly. 

She giggled softly. “Show me how to get your kilt off.” 

Bog looked embarrassed ,but he stood up. He unbuckled the belt, dropping it to the floor. He reached around to his hip and pulled the cloth around front, unwrapping it from his hips. He was naked, standing there in front of her, every inch of him exposed. She could tell it was difficult for him, exposing himself, not just his body, but all that he had laid bare for her. He was gorgeous, slim muscles, the tattoos covering his arms, slim hips,lean legs and his erection... she could eat him up, she thought. She sat up, reaching for his hands, pulling him down to her. “You're beautiful, Bog.” He flushed brightly as she guided him to her. They wrapped around each other, her kisses were hard and hungry. Bog groaned, kissing her just as hard in return, pinning her under him as he rolled on top of her. She balled her hands in his hair, taking his tongue. Bog leaned back just enough, his breath coming in heavy pants. 

“Imma gonna take yer panties off now.” 

Marianne giggled. “Good.” 

The grin he gave her, crooked teeth, twinkling blue eyes, those lips, that nose—god he was killing her. He moved down her body and hooked her panties with his long fingers. He pulled them down and off her legs in one fluid movement. Bog threw them to the floor and slid his fingers through the patch of hair between her legs, running his fingers up to her stomach. She gasped and her body arched as he touched her. “Marianne.” 

He moaned her name as he leaned in and kissed the thatch of hair. She trembled, his tongue hesitantly reached out to explore her intimate places. The sound she made, a breathy gasp, her hips arching toward him made him spread her thighs to lick her. He started low and made his way up with the flat of his tongue. She immediately grabbed his hair, her legs moving over his shoulders. 

He licked at her in long, slow strokes, taking his time to enjoy her. Marianne moaned, her legs gliding softly along his shoulders and back as her fingers played in his hair. His tongue was doing things to her that she never imagined nor experienced as he licked, then sucked at that place that made her cry out. Marianne dug her nails into his scalp, her toes pointing with the intensity of what he was doing to her. He wrapped one arm around her thigh, kissing her sensitive sex before he delicately moved one long finger into her, feeling how wet she was as her body tightened. Marianne arched her hips with a gasp. Bog leaned in, using his tongue to play with the hard spot of her sex while sliding another finger into her, making her cry out long and hard, pulling on his hair, her legs tightening around him as she climaxed again. 

He pulled back as her body dropped against the mattress. She was panting for air. He moved sensually up her body, then surprised her, as he pulled her against him. She hungrily kissed his mouth, tasting the saltiness of herself on him, but when she reached down to touch his erection he stopped her. 

“Not tonight, Marianne.” 

She blinked in surprise. “But Bog...” 

He stroked her hair, she could almost feel the struggle in him. He clearly wanted her and it was taking a force of willpower she was sure no other man could possess to stop himself to only think of her pleasure and not his own. 

“If you still want me tomorrow in the light of day, if you still feel the same way then yes, but tonight I wanted to be about your pleasure. It's not that I donna want you, lass. I do. My body is aching for you and I love you. But you've had yer heart broken. I want you to be sure.” 

He looked at her with those damn eyes of his, soulful, so blue there was a hidden heartbreak in them. He was scared, but he loved her. She stroked his face with a smile, her eyes burning with tears, but she whispered. 

“You are in so much trouble tomorrow night. You know that, don't you?” 

Bog chuckled, squeezing her in his arms. “Aye, I am looking forward to it more than you know.”


	4. The Next Day

The next morning she woke on her side with her back pressed up against his chest. He had kept his word, only kissing and holding her the rest of the night. Now his arm was snug around her. She smiled—lying there with him felt so right. She could feel his erection through his pants against her and when he mumbled in his sleep nuzzling his face in her hair, his hand slipped up to cup one of her breasts. She could tell by his breathing he was still asleep, but he held her so softly, so protectively. She bit her lips, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. She closed her eyes, a gentle smile on her face willing herself back to sleep. When she woke the second time it was to find a blanket tucked around her. She could hear the water running in the trailer's little shower. Marianne sat up, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders looking toward the small bathroom, which resembled more of a tiny closet than a full on bathroom. The door was open and she could hear him singing as the water ran. Her smile broadened as he sang. 

“...If he's looking for trouble, Just take a look at this face!” 

His accent was a lot heavier as he sang into the shower head thinking no one heard him. She could see his figure behind the frosted shower door. He was so tall it looked like he had to stoop a bit. She dropped the blanket, walking in and popping the door open, stopping Bog's singing in mid-sentence. 

“Because I'm evil, my middle na....” 

He nearly jumped a foot when Marianne opened the shower door and then stepped in with him. It was a tight fit, but she managed it. She pulled the door closed with a grin as she moved under his arms to stand in front of him. 

He blushed, which she found adorable. “Mornin', lass.” 

She let her gaze drop down his wet, naked soapy body. “Morning, Bog.” 

She reached over to his hand that was holding the soap, took the bar out of said hand and proceeded to rub it between her smaller hands—then she began to wash him down. He went very still, their eyes never leaving one another as she ran her soapy hands along his chest and along his tattooed arms. Then her hands moved down over his groin, making him jump and then she soaped up each of his lean legs enjoying the view she was getting of him. His cheeks were quite red as she worked her way back up. 

“Turn around,” she ordered. Her voice was soft as she smiled at him. Bog complied without a word. She started the process over again, rubbing his back and over his hips, backside, crouching down to wash the back of his legs. He put his hands against the back of the stall leaning on them as she worked. She pressed her lips together, watching the water run down his back and lower parts. 

Coherent thought was not high on his list at the moment as she worked. A woman had never treated him like this, ever. Hell, he hadn't been with anyone in years, having given up on finding love after the last heartbreak nearly destroyed him. But here he was, with this beautiful creature and she was treating him like he was special. She nudged him. 

“You can rinse off. I would wash your hair, but I don't think I can reach it.” 

She giggled when she said it, smiling at him when he turned back around. He grinned lopsidedly. 

“I could wash yours though, if ye want?” 

Bog washed her hair, his long fingers massaging her scalp, the water from the shower head pouring onto her. He could not help his body's reaction to her, naked, wet, touching him, his fingers touching her, sliding down over damp, soapy, naked flesh. 

He swallowed hard as he turned her around gently to rinse her hair. She ran her hands over her hair rinsing out the shampoo, her eyes opening to gaze at him. He hadn't shaved yet, the morning light coming in through the tiny shower window cast a slightly hazy white light. She smiled reaching up to run her hands over his rough cheeks. He still looked embarrassed, but asked softly, “Ye want me to wash you?” 

She grinned. “Sure.” 

Bog moved slowly, carefully, almost worshipful over her body having rubbed the soap between his hands until he had a good thick lather. She closed her eyes as his large narrow hands moved over her skin. He didn't touch her sexually at all, just simply washed her, but it was like a tender caress the way his hands glided over her. When she rinsed off, she wrapped her arms around his neck going up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Bog groaned softly, wrapping his arms tightly around her, pulling her against him. Bog lifted her up just a little off her feet, breathing heavy with desire as he returned her kiss. One hand slipping down to cup her rear, squeezing gently. She wanted him so badly, wanted him to take her right here, but she knew he was waiting still, he said if she still wanted him tonight...she moaned softly, causing him to finally break the kiss, both of them trying to catch their breath. 

She swallowed, her brown eyes meeting his dreamy blue ones. “Ah, do you have a coffee pot?” 

He nodded mutely. She pulled back slowly, laying her hands flat on his chest. “Ah, I will go make up some coffee.” 

He nodded without a word as she stepped out. When she was gone, he leaned on his arms letting the water hit him full in the face. Damn, damn, damn, what was he doing? 

Marianne pulled on a t-shirt of Bog's she found laying across a chair, slipping her panties back on. She fussed about the tiny little kitchen, finding the small coffee machine and some coffee, which smelled pretty good. She was looking around for cups when she heard the water shut off at the same time there was a knock at the door of the trailer. 

That was when she heard his mother, Griselda. 

“Hey, Bog, honey! I brought you some breakfast! Need to have a full stomach for today's events!!” 

Marianne walked over to the door as Bog stumbled out of the tiny bathroom with a towel around his hips crying out. “Don't open the door!!” 

But he was too late, Marianne opened the door at that moment. Griselda started to walk in carrying a bag with something that smell delicious, but stopped short looking at 

Marianne and then her son. Her small eyes went very, very wide. 

Bog groaned, covering his face with one hand as he held his towel in place. 

Griselda grinned. “So ah, would you like some breakfast too dear? Of course you do. You stay right here. I will bring you a clean outfit too—you hold on.” 

Just like that, she handed the bag to Marianne and scurried off. Bog, still clutching the towel around his slim hips, flopped down onto the edge of the bed muttering. 

“Bloody hell, she is going to have us engaged and everyone knowing about it by the end of the day.” 

Marianne blushed, chuckling softly as she came over to plop down next to him. 

“You should get dressed, you know, unless...” 

She grinned at him her eyes roaming down him. Bog chuckled, clearly embarrassed. “Ah, yea.” 

* 

Half-an-hour later, there was a knock at the door again. Bog opened it this time. He was dressed in a clean kilt and t-shirt, still barefoot though as he opened the door. But his mother had left another bag of food, a folded shirt and skirt for Marianne setting in front of the door. He looked around, but his mother was gone, having made her escape. 

Bog muttered about his mother being a damn boggart as he picked up the things and brought them in. 

Marianne dressed. This time she was given a t-shirt that read, “Taken by a Scotsman” which made Bog groan and a skirt of tartan green and blue with just a hint of brown that brought out the gold in Marianne's eyes. Bog kept staring at her as they ate. She blushed, reaching out and tracing her fingers along his hand. He gently ran his fingers along hers. Finally, they interlocked their fingers staring at each other. There was a sound like a horn, causing Bog to look toward the sound with a knowing expression. “The last day of games is about the begin. The bagpipers will play the opening ceremonies for the day.” 

She smiled. “So what's today's competitions?” 

“Well, the final part of the back hold wrestling.” 

She frowned. “I thought you won?” 

He grinned, “I won the first rounds in my weight division—today is fer the trophy.” He winked at her. “There is also another streetlight challenge, weight over bar, ye use only one hand on that one. I and Brutus are signed up fer that one. Brutus is doing the shot throw and my mother signed me up for the damned heavy ball throw. I think those are the only heavys. There is also a dance competition, which ought to be fun. Stuff and Thang are signed up for that one.” 

“Dance?” Marianne grinned. 

Bog chuckled. “They ain't never won, but they both love competing.” 

“What about you? Ever compete in the dancing?” Marianne grinned wider and Bog suddenly felt that he had just gotten himself cornered. 

“Ah...nooo...” 

“Do you know how to do that type of dancing?” She put her chin in her hand, gazing at him earnestly from across the small table. 

“Aye...a little. Haven't done it since I was a wee lad though.” Bog looked frightened, he thought her sister was bad, but now...nope the eldest was the dangerous one. 

That was when there was a hard knock at the trailer door and Bog's mother yelled, “Come on you two. Get yerself out! The events are going to be starting!! Defend the family honor!!” 

Marianne quickly came around the table, grabbing Bog on either side of his face and kissed him, a deep passionate kiss. He answered her kiss with the most delicious sounding groan. He reached up to grasp her elbows, tongues smoothly moving over one another. That was when the door flew open and Griselda leaned in. “Alright, come Bog. They're getting ready for the first match!” 

Bog blushed at being caught again, but he stood taking Marianne's hand and led her out of the trailer with him. Griselda was standing there with her fists on her hips, looking pleased as punch. “Come on you two, follow me!” 

They found their way to the circled off area where Marianne had first seen Bog the day before. For a moment, she was amazed at how important this man had become to her in just a short amount of time. 

There were several men in the area and a few women, but her eyes were drawn immediately to a blonde head, Roland. She hissed. “Roland?” 

Bog looked over following her gaze and he snarled, “What is that prat doing in there? This is for competitors. “ 

Griselda put her hand on her son's arm. “I don't know all the details are, but I'm not worried and you shouldn't worry son, you can take him.” 

Bog narrowed his eyes. “Bloody right I will.” 

* 

Marianne joined Bog's clan as the opening ceremonies were played, the Scottish bagpipes and drums did their thing out in the open field as everyone waited for the final bouts of wrestling. Bog stretched his arms over his head, reaching over his shoulders with his long arms to pull off his t-shirt. He then yanked off boots and socks before cracking his neck. His blue eyes narrowed with menace as he looked over at Roland's group. He snarled, “That little prick is going to wish he had never gotten involved in this.” Marianne stepped up to Bog, wrapping her arms around his torso. He dropped his arms down to settle them around her, a grin on his narrow face. She laid her chin against his chest, making Bog's smile widen even more. Her dark eyes danced. “You are going to throw him to the ground.” 

Bog chuckled. “Oh, aye. Going to make him kiss the dirt again. The little blonde fucker is going to have to get use to that, I'm afraid.” 

Marianne giggled. “Good luck, Bog.” 

Then she kissed him, her tongue glided along his lips, he opened his mouth to her lifting her up just a little to deepen the kiss. Her tongue tasted sweet in his mouth, causing a soft breath of pleasure to escape. Marianne brushed her tongue long his bottom lip before her teeth stroked the tender flesh. He wanted nothing more than to breathe her in, to feel her pressed against him. That was when their little group started to cheer. Bog and Marianne broke apart, looking embarrassed as Griselda took Marianne's arm. 

“Go get them, Bog! Especially after that kiss for luck!” 

Bog blushed with a look at Marianne before he stepped out onto the field, his arm slowly pulled away from her. As his name was announced, Bog strolled over to meet Roland in the middle of the field. Roland was wearing only his kilt as well, flashing his smile and arms for the crowd. He looked less than his best with his nose bandaged up. Goofy, Bog thought. 

“Marianne got ye good, didn't she?” Bog observed with a sneer. 

Roland snarled. “I don't see how a beauty like Marianne could be with a beast like you.” 

That was when Roland spit at Bog's feet. For a moment, Bog's rage blinded him, but he quickly cooled down, silently promising pain upon the hoormister. He was going to be damned if he let this fluffed up American get the better of him. The ref came over. “Alright lads, let's go.” 

Bog stepped up to Roland, his eyes narrowed. He was a great deal taller than the blonde, but whatever Roland had done to get himself here was not going to help him against Bog. They put their arms around each other locking their arms in place. Roland looked up at Bog, returning the sneer. 

“When I beat you, I am going to get Marianne back.” 

Bog snorted. “Fat chance, you pumped up fucking dobber!” 

Roland blinked in clear confusion as the two men bent over to put their chins on the other man's shoulder. They went still, waiting. Then the ref motioned for them to start. Bog tightened his grip around Roland. Roland surprised him by starting to lift him off his feet. The little runt was not all show and actually had some strength, but Bog held firm. The two men turned, twisting around, both holding tightly. They spun. Bog lifting him up, but Roland jerked down keeping his feet. 

“Marianne will realize what a freak you are! She could never love someone as ugly and disgusting as you.” 

Roland huffed as he struggled with Bog, putting as much venom as he could into the words. Bog was doing his best not to show that what Roland was saying really was affecting him, but that doubt he held deep inside bubbled forth. Marianne was a beauty and he was a tall, lanky, homely, Scotsman who had failed time and time again at finding love. He had been told more than once that he was ugly, no woman would want someone like him, and he wondered if last night had all been just a dream he was never meant to have. 

He faltered for a moment. Roland almost got the best of him, turning and pulling. Bog lost his footing for a split second, the grass sliding under his feet. Roland chuckled thinking he had the win, but at the last second Bog lurched and planted one heel firmly into the ground. The two of them bent low, turning around as they struggled, kilts flipping as they spun. The audience cheered, not only at the match being played out by these two men whose faces told a story of spite and anger, but the quick glimpses of bare behinds that the two men were flashing elicited shouts and clapping and cheering. Roland tried to hook on of Bog's long legs with his own, but Bog kept moving, keeping Roland from getting a good pull on his leg. Roland was breathless, but he huffed. 

“I will get her back, you cockroach. Look at me compared to you—you really think you stand a chance?” 

That was it! Bog was tried of playing around—he was hurt, he was angry, part of him fearing that Roland was right. He snarled, snapping one of his legs out and hooking his long leg around Roland's. With a bellow, he lifted and twisted, slamming Roland into the ground going down with the blonde under his weight. The ref call the first match. Bog let go of Roland, stepping away swiftly as he panted, glaring at the blonde as he got to his feet. The ref waited until Roland had staggered over, then held Bog's arm up, declaring him the winner of the first match. Four more to go. 

As the two men got back into position, Roland hissed in Bog's ear, 

“You will never be able to make her happy you know.” 

Bog took a deep breath, spitting back. 

“Shut yer mouth, you fucking bawbag!” 

This time Bog managed to twist and flip Roland right over his shoulder onto his back pinning him in one fairly smooth move. Bog let go, getting to his feet, but he put a hand on Roland's chest holding him there for a moment. 

“Ye need to keep yer fuckin' mouth shut or I swear I am going to break one of yer teeth to go with that nose of yers.” 

Then Bog stepped back, the ref holding up his hand. If looks could kill, the look Roland gave Bog would have slaughtered him right there. Roland didn't keep his mouth shut. Roland managed to hit every single one of Bog's insecurities, every doubt Bog held about himself and Marianne being with him, Roland managed to get a dig in without ever realizing he was actually hurting Bog. Roland's words were like knife wounds, giving Roland the advantage to kick and drop Bog to a knee. 

Roland gave him a triumphant grin as he was declared the winner for that match. 

Bog stood, wiping grass from his knees as he glanced over at Marianne. She was looking at him so earnestly, standing right next to his mother who gave him a thumbs up. 

Marianne stared at him then and surprised him as she blew him a kiss, then down right shocked him even more as she screamed, 

“Make him kiss the dirt, Bog!!!! You can do it!!! I love you!!!” 

That shocked Bog out of his fear—she said it out loud, for the crowd!! 

The two men got into position again, but this time Bog was smiling. She yelled it, that she loved him. Saying it where no one could hear them was one thing, but declaring it like that? He was still in shock as a smirking Roland said, “Told you I could beat you.” 

Bog grinned. “No ye can't, ye prick because she loves me.” 

Within seconds of Bog stating that, the ref called go. Bog moved swiftly and smoothly, twisting his whole body, pivoting his hips and lifting Roland off his feet as he hooked a long leg behind one of his, flipping Roland and putting him down on the ground again. 

The grin he gave Roland was one part wicked glee and one part triumphant. The beauty is in love with the beast, he thought. 

“Good try, ya twat!” Bog pushed up to stand over Roland. 

“Just one more and I've won.” Bog stood, putting a hand out to Roland. 

Roland's eyes narrowed dangerously as he took Bog's hand, but as Bog moved to pull Roland to his feet, Roland instead yanked backwards pulling Bog off his. The blonde moved surprisingly quickly. Bog fell forward, hitting his shoulder as he moved to avoid Roland. Roland got to his feet and jumped Bog. He started to hit him as hard as he could, blooding Bog's lip and nose. 

“You fucking freak! Marianne is mine!!” 

The ref yelled, reaching over to pull Roland off of Bog. Bog hissed and swung. Roland had gotten him by surprise, but Bog was use to a good brawl. 

The ref stepped back as the two clans surged the field muttering, “God damn it—not again!” There was a lot of shouting and hitting. It took several minutes (with the crowd cheering on the fight) in order to get everyone separated and settled down. Roland was disqualified for starting the brawl. Marianne had her arm around Bog's waist as she led him off the field, blood dripping down Bog's chin and from his nose. Griselda heatedly discussed what was to happen with the match now. It was looking like Bog was going to be declared the winner by default, but he was angered about it. Marianne got Bog back to their clan tent and sitting down on a stool. She went and grabbed him a bottle of water from a cooler nearby and a towel. As she handed both to him, she smiled. 

“You were amazing out there. And the view was pretty awesome too.” 

Bog looked at her for a long second before he laughed. “Thank you.” 

She sat down on the ground beside his legs, leaning against his thigh. “Roland said some stuff, didn't he?” 

Bog shrugged. “The man's a worm.” 

“Did you believe him?” Marianne ran her arm around his calf sliding her palm up and down his leg. 

Bog smiled at the pleasant contact of her hand brushing his leg, but he was silent for a long moment, long enough that Marianne wasn't sure he was going to answer. 

“He was right about stuff. I am a beast compared to you.” 

Marianne turned to look at him. “Bog, you are not a beast. You are sweet, gentle, adorable and a gentleman. Qualities Roland know nothing about.” 

Bog blushed. “You shouted I love you for everyone in the crowd to hear.” 

He said it softly as if he wanted to give her a chance to take it back. 

Marianne grinned. “Yes, I did. And I do.” 

She twisted to look at him. “Geez, didn't change my mind in the light of day, you dork.” 

Bog laughed, reaching to pull her up. She moved to straddle his lap as he spread his legs out to hold her, his hands resting on her rear. Marianne smiled, rubbing her nose against his as he winced a bit. 

“Oh sorry, it's not broken is it?” She tenderly touched his nose. 

“Nah, it's fine.” 

She ran her fingertips along his bloody lip. He winced a little. 

“Don't ever let anyone put you down, Bog.” 

She whispered it softly, leaning in to brush his lips with hers. He tasted of sweat, blood and Bog. And it was one of the most delicious kisses she had ever had.


	5. Dance with Me

The rest of the day was fairly quiet after the excitement of the wrestling match. After the match, the clan came into the clan tent to find Marianne straddling Bog's lap. She had both hands up his kilt, high on his thighs, their mouths nearly devouring one another. Bog placed his hands on her rear squeezing and pulling her closer. Bog's mother cleared her throat, making the two lovers jump. Bog nearly dropped her when he suddenly stood up, still holding onto Marianne who yelped yanking her hands back from under his kilt almost exposing him for all to see. All this made Griselda cackle with glee. But after the initial shock of being caught necking, everyone settled down to discuss the next events. Bog kept an arm around Marianne's waist, the tips of his fingers occasionally stroking her hip. It was a sweet gesture that made Marianne's heart melt. 

* 

Holding hands, Bog and Marianne walked to the part of the field where the weight for height throw was taking place, along with the stone put and lastly the Clach cuid fir. When Bog heard, he groaned. “Mam, I thought I said I didn't want to do that one this time around?” Bog glared at his mother as they walked to the competition field. Griselda waved her hand in a dismissal of her son. 

“I know, I know, but I thought you might want to impress your young lady so I ran over and signed you up this morning!” 

Bog's brow furrowed and he ground his bottom teeth against his top ones. 

Marianne looked between the two of them. His mother smiled then said with the air of someone going ahead and throwing a stick of dynamite onto a bonfire. 

“I also signed you up for the Gillie Callum.” 

Bog stopped short. “Ye did WHAT??” 

Griselda's smile broadened, the woman clearly was not cowed by her son's outburst. “I signed you up for Gillie Callum. You use to be wonderful at it.” 

Bog groaned. “Use to be mother!! USE TO BE!! I haven't done that damn dance in a couple of years and ye signed me up!!! Do we even have a bloody sword??” 

Griselda smiled calmly. “I always bring your Da's sword when you compete, for luck.” 

Bog sighed, defeated. 

That was when Marianne heard her name yelled in a cheery voice. “MARIANNE!” 

She spun around to see her sister jogging across the field. Dawn stopped short when she saw the way Bog and Marianne were holding hands, a large smile gracefully forming as she looked between the two of them. 

Marianne released Bog's hand just long enough to hug her sister before reclaiming his hand in hers. 

“Hey, so...” Dawn grinned while giving her sister a significant look. 

Marianne could tell Dawn really wanted to ask about last night, but was holding off until they were alone; instead Dawn pouted. 

“I am so mad I missed the wrestling! It's all over the games right now about Bog beating Roland and Roland trying to start another brawl. I bet Roland won't be at next year's games!” 

Bog snorted. “Aye, well he might get himself banned from this one at least.” 

Marianne squeezed Bog's hand. “Bog was amazing!” 

Dawn glanced between them again with a knowing smile. “Oh, I'm sure he was. So what are you guys doing now?” 

Bog shrugged. “Seems me Mother here signed me up for more events than I knew about. But right now we are heading to the weight for height event.” 

Dawn beamed. “Mind if I tag along?” 

Griselda laced her arm with Dawn's. “Of course not dear! We're all family here! Let's go cheer Bog on.” 

Bog sighed, but he could not help the smile that spread across his lips as he held tightly to Marianne's hand. 

The clan watched as Bog took the field. He lifted the weight, testing it a bit. Marianne's heart thudded hard in her chest watching him, the way the muscles rippled in his tattooed arms as he lifted the weight. He bent his knees, and with one hand, swung the weight between his legs. Marianne held the side of her bottom lip in her teeth watching him. The man was so damn sexy, especially the little flip of his kilt. He let the weight go straight up and over the bar behind him, the crowd let out a cheer. Marianne squealed, jumping in the air pumping her fists until she saw Dawn and Griselda looking at her. She dropped back to sit, embarrassed, but still grinning like crazy. 

He strolled over to her grinning, his kilt flipping a little as he walked. Marianne threw herself over the rope and into his arms. He laughed holding her tightly, lifting her off her feet. They kissed long and hard, forgetting that there was a crowd around them as he held her against him. Their lips moved over each others mouths, lips, teeth, his hands slipping down to squeeze her rear. When they pulled back the group of people around them cheered. 

* 

The whole clan participated in the Clach cuid fir. Marianne loved the fact that though the name translated into manhood stones, there were women participating in the event. She watched as Thang crouched, wrapping his short arms around the stone, squatting low and proceeded to lift the stone, then sort of duck walked it to where a thick round log sat vertically. He lifted the stone—just barely—but he managed to get it on top of the log before pushing it back off to the wild cheers of his clan and the spectators. Next was Stuff. She stepped away from her group, stretching her arms over her head before she duplicated the same movements, though she had an easier time lifting the stone as she waddled it over to the log repeating the steps. 

Marianne leaned close to Griselda. “So what exactly is this suppose to be about?” 

Griselda grinned. “Well, a long time ago the manhood stones were a test of strength, a way for a young man to show he was a man by lifting the stone, now anyone in a clan can do it. Just for fun, scare the other clans.” 

Of course when it was Bog's turn, Marianne nearly melted into a puddle of want just watching his arms flex and ripple. Damn. Marianne was so distracted she didn't realize that Griselda had left and came back. When Marianne looked down she saw that Griselda was holding a sword. 

“What?” 

Griselda grinned wickedly glancing up. “The dancing starts soon.” 

* 

The next hour was mostly Bog arguing with his mother. She had signed him up to do that damn sword dance, which he was not prepared to do, but even Marianne knew he was fighting a losing battle. Everyone else in the clan tent was going about their business as usual. Dawn had run off to talk to Sunny on the phone during his break and secure some food. With an extremely loud sigh of frustrated defeat, Bog stormed out of the tent. He stopped, turning to give a startled Marianne a tender smile. 

“I'll be right back, lass.” 

She blew him a kiss. Bog blushed furiously with a smile before he headed out. Marianne came over to Griselda. “So where is he going?” 

She grinned liked the proud mama she was. “To change for the sword dance. You're going to love it, dear.” 

When Bog returned, he was in a clean kilt, white socks, or as Griselda informed her, they were called hose, a pair of leather laced shoes called Ghillie Brogues, a crisp white shirt and all the other accessories that she had seen in paintings and whatnot of Scottish men wearing kilts. Marianne felt herself gulp with a whispered, “Wow.” 

Bog ducked into the clan tent with a glare at his mother, which quickly melted at the stunned and very appreciative look Marianne was giving him. Dawn came bursting in right behind Bog with a squeal. “OMG!! You are going to do the sword dance, aren't you!! I am so excited!!!” She threw her arms around Bog who went stiff for a moment before relaxing with an embarrassed chuckle. “Yeah. I guess I am.” 

* 

Griselda handed Bog his father's sword just before Bog went on stage. Brutus followed Bog, holding another long sword. They walked out onto the stage together unsheathing the swords, laying swords and sheaths in a cross pattern on the floor of the stage. Bog stood with his fists on his hips. He glanced toward Marianne, his vivid blue eyes soft as he gazed at her, then the piper started to play. He moved like a damn ballet dancer; he started to jump and kick. Griselda leaned in close to her. “The story goes that a Celtic prince danced over his bloody sword and the bloody sword of the man he defeated. Sort of a dance of triumph. It's all about grace and agility.” 

Marianne listened as she stared at Bog. He was leaping back and forth across the blades. It was pretty damn impressive for such a strong man to be equally gracefully. He spun around catching her eyes and winked at her. “He is proving his skill by not touching the blades,” Griselda explained, clearly proud of her son. 

Bog turned while the music increased in tempo, his dance picking up right along with it. He pointed his toes, lifting his legs, his kilt flicked up showing off his damn sexy legs. Marianne found herself mesmerized watching him. For someone who claimed to have not performed the dance in a few years, he was clearly impressive. He moved quicker, his arms up, legs moving—god, it was glorious. He finished with a flourish and the crowd exploded in applause. Brutus came out to help with the swords and as he walked off the stage, Marianne moved to throw her arms around his neck. “That was amazing.” 

He blushed, clearly flustered as he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her. They stood there kissing softly, completely forgetting about everyone else around them. Bog tightened his grip on her as Marianne whispered. “Trailer. Sex. now.” 

The look on Bog's face was a cross between excitement and shock at her blatant demand. Bog glanced over her head at his mother and was about to say something, but judging by the look on her face she had heard Marianne's hotly hissed request. 

“You two go on now. Yer not needed for the rest of the festivities.” Griselda gave her son an outrageous wink that caused Bog to flush with intense discomfort. 

* 

It took them another hour or more to fully extract themselves from the festivities despite his mother's help. Thang and Stuff danced in the highland fling, which ended up being hilarious as neither of them were very graceful. The two of them ended up laughing and falling into one another or the other dancers to everyone's glee. Sunny showed up in the middle of all this, catching a very happy Dawn before the two wandered off. 

By the time they were able to get away, both of them were a bit desperate. He opened the door to the trailer, pulling Marianne in with him. He turned to say something just as Marianne grabbed the back of his head, her fingers tangling tightly in his hair. She growled at him, her amber eyes flashed with animal-like need as she attacked his mouth. 

Bog stumbled backwards, gripping her as she kissed him. Marianne wrapped herself around him like a sexually frustrated viper. Bog picked her up, his large hands grabbing her rear under her skirt feeling the firm roundness of her buttocks, the lace of her panties making him even harder for her, if that was at all possible. He dropped backwards onto the bed, both of them laughing. Marianne pulled his shirt out of the kilt, straddling his hips, moving her hands underneath to feel the planes of his stomach, needing to feel his warm flesh under her hands. 

She leaned down to bite at his abdomen through his shirt like a feverishly hungry woman. Bog made a deep growling sound in his chest when her hands yanked his shirt up, helping him to pull it over his head. She sat back for a moment, flattening her hands against him to run down his chest and stomach her eyes devouring him. Her fingers traced the edge of his kilt watching with a smirk as his flesh goosebump at her touch. 

She leaned down, her tongue tasting his skin. Bog tasted so good. She started to litter his chest and stomach with sucking bites, drawing her way down. Bog seemed unsure what to do with his hands for a moment since Marianne was all over him. He gasped with pleasure at a particularly painful bite she meted out to his hip. Marianne sat up, yanking off shirt and bra, tossing them away. She left her skirt and tennis shoes on before returning to exploring his stomach with her tongue and teeth. Bog shifted his hands up her thighs, going under her skirt. Her legs were muscled, yet silky soft under his fingers. He explored further up her skirt finding the edges of her panties. 

“Yer sure...” 

He asked, wanting her to know he never expected anything from her. 

“Oh yes, Bog. I want you.” 

Her eyes burned with passion as she slipped down his body, dropping herself onto the floor between his legs. She ran her hands along his socks, up his knees, loving the way he felt before she moved her hands under his kilt. Her fingers graced along the inside of his thighs, then along his bonnie knees, causing Bog to groan. She giggled softly, ducking under his kilt. Bog started to say something, but then her mouth was on him, tongue licking her way along his length causing him to lose the capacity to speak. Marianne groaned. He was every inch sexy and to finally have him in her mouth, to taste him, his heat, his silkiness—and then to hear him groan. She had never done this before, but she was confident that with Bog, it was going to be her favorite thing to do with him from now on. 

Bog dug his fingers into the mattress sheets, lifting up enough to glance down at her. All he could see was the motion of her head under his kilt before she drew long and hard on him. 

“Ahhggg!!! Marianne!!!” 

He felt her giggle with him still in her mouth. The giggle vibrated up through his core. God, he was deep, deep, in love with her and everything she did just made the condition worse. 

He was becoming so hard from her lips and hot tongue. She kept sucking and twisting around him until he thought he was going to come, or die, or both. She licked the head of his erection, tasting a hint of him. She finally came up, flipping his kilt up as she did so. Bog pushed up onto his elbows looking at her grinning at him from between his legs. She stood up slowly, running her tongue along her teeth as she smirked at him. Bog watched her as she put her hands under her skirt and shimmied out of her panties. Bog knew he probably had the goofiest grin on his face, but damned if he could help it! She tossed the panties to the side, her look predatory. Bog swallowed, his blue eyes following her, as she dropped down and crawled on top of him. 

“Where did you put the condoms?” 

Bog blinked numbly and then shook as if what she just said registered. “Ah, what? Fuck!” 

She stayed hovering over him. “Condoms—where are they?” 

Bog looked very embarrassed and confused. “Damn it, we need to stop. I don't have any.” 

Marianne smirked. “The bag that your mom brought me breakfast in this morning, there was a box of condoms in the bag too.” 

Bog dropped his head back against the mattress with a groan of complete and utter horror. The fact that he might actually have to thank his mom for thinking ahead was mortifying. Marianne got up searching around until she saw the bag. She hurriedly pulled the box of condoms out of the discarded bag, fumbling to get one from the container before quickly returning to the bed, a grin of wicked triumph on her face. She was quick to slide the condom on him, wanting him so badly that there was an intense ache in her groin and breasts. She didn't just want him, she needed him. 

Bog had very little time to respond before she was on him again, pushing her hips down taking him deep into her with an intense moan of pleasure. She ground her hips down on him, riding him as if her life depended on her being part of him. Bog snarled, his fingers bunching up the material of her skirt as she rode him, leaving him helpless but to hold on and enjoy being ridden. Luckily, his feet were still on the floor giving him enough traction to thrust back occasionally when he could. Her first climax came hard and fast. She dug her fingers into the cloth of his kilt that she had gathered up in her fist as she arched back with a cry. Bog groaned, her back bowed, her body tightening around him so much so that he was sure he was going to come. It took a great deal of effort for him to hold back. He wanted this to be more than a quick fuck in his trailer. He was falling, had fallen hard in love with her and he was determined to show her how much. 

Bog reached up, grabbing her, pulling her down against him. He rolled her onto her back. His shoes helped to keep him from slipping when they spun. He stood, pulling her hips up, hooking his arms under her legs and holding her up as he thrust into her, her skirt flopping back against her stomach, her breasts bouncing with his thrusts. She held onto the bedding, biting her lip watching him as he thrust, his kilt moving with each shove of his hips. 

She cried out his name. Her climax washed over her so fast that she gasped with it, breathless. Bog dropped her legs gathering her up holding her tight against him, burying himself deep inside her, feeling how wet she was, wet for and because of him. He moved further onto the bed. He kissed her, kissed her breasts, cradled her head. She had his heart, he had thought never again, yet here he had given it freely. “Marianne...I love you.” 

She stroked her fingers through his hair gazing into his eyes, his face, thinking for the briefest moment, only fools rush in... “I love you, Bog. I love you.” He held her close, rotating his hips slowly. She wrapped her legs around his waist. His kissed her hot, tender, all consuming and she fell harder as his fingers stroked through her hair, his hips slowly, gently shoved, and pulled, bringing her to the edge of ecstatic oblivion. Oh, she was a fool, a fool in love. He looked down at her, his nose against hers. They stared into each other's eyes, the tempo having changed from sex, to making love so that this time when Marianne climaxed her orgasm was shared. Bog shuddered, the two of them crying out as one. 

They held each other tightly, both of them panting. Marianne gulped and started to cry softly, overcome with emotion. Bog kissed her tears gingerly, whispering with each kiss. “I love you. I love you, Marianne.” 

She smiled when she saw Bog had teared up too. He laughed softly as she reached up using her thumb to wipe away his tears, both of them smiling. Bog rubbed his nose against hers grinning like a fool, but he asked her softly. “Want to see my apartment tomorrow?”

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to follow the movies formula of having them fall in a single evening or in this case a single afternoon, though there will be at least one more part to this.
> 
> Bog eating a strawberry pie in chapter three is a nod to RazormusPrime and her headcanon that Bog loves strawberries!


End file.
